


Don’t you Hate that Cliché Nightmare Trope?

by canned_rainbows



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, S4m swap au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canned_rainbows/pseuds/canned_rainbows
Summary: The man previously known as Dr. Bora has a fucked up nightmare, but at least he has his lovely assistant to help him through it.
Relationships: Boris Habit/Kamal Bora, Kamal Bora/Boris Habit
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Don’t you Hate that Cliché Nightmare Trope?

**Author's Note:**

> I have never posted a fanfic before in my life.
> 
> Just a lil post game oneshot for my S4M swap au! I dunno if I’ll do more fic for that au in particular but I wanted to get this down at least. It’s not very long but I hope you like it!

Kamal didn’t remember waking up. 

He didn’t remember getting out of bed and rushing down the hall, his entire back drenched in sweat. He didn’t remember the quiet yet desperate “no”s tumbling from his mouth as he threw open the bathroom door and flipped the switch, nearly slamming his hands on the counter as he looked in the mirror with his teeth bared. But he remembered everything after that. He remembered counting the teeth in his mouth over and over again, frantic. 27. You have 27 teeth, Bora. One short, just like you ought to. He remembered taking in a massive gulp of air and throwing his head back, a shaking hand moving to push back the straggling hairs that clung to his sweaty forehead, before settling his forearm over his eyes in order to block out the bright bathroom light right above him. He remembered letting that breath out far too fast, but still being far too tense to care, his gaze snapping back to the mirror in front of him once he lowered his arm. Standing in a borrowed, oversized band tee and pajama pants, disheveled, shaky. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. 

Technically, he guess he had. The ghost of a man that wasn’t around anymore, for damn sure, and one he’d do his best to keep dead for the rest of his life. 

He grimaced a little as he reached up and tightened the cyan scrunchie that kept his massive black mop of hair back, wasn’t so bad that he felt he needed to redo it, but it was still a bit loose and tangled from all the tossing he’d probably been doing. God, what time was it? There was no clock in the bathroom so he couldn’t be sure, but it was still dark out, and he still felt tired, and... Not great. The pit in his stomach wasn’t always present, but it was around a lot, and right now it was much heavier than he really cared for. And his chest was tight. And... He was starting to get some pretty nasty thoughts rolling around in his head. He shook it in an attempt to clear it up, stepping out of the bathroom and back into the darkened hall, reduced to pitch when he flipped the bathroom light back off. It was always tempting to push those thoughts down, like right now, when they were telling him how sick he was. How he was never going to be a better person. You can’t erase your past, that’ll always be you, Kamal, that big fake grin full of too many teeth, standing over an innocent kid, ready to pull and pull and- 

A large, soft barrier blocked Kamal’s walking path and caused him to stumble. He was predictably caught by said barrier, one large clawed hand settled on his lower back, the other having gently found his arm. Of course, rushing out of bed in the middle of the night must have woken Boris, the lightest sleeper he’d ever met. And the look of concern in those big dopey eyes was unmistakable, what with how they glowed that lightly muted orange in the dark. It made Kamal feel comforted and guilty all at once. “My lily pad?” Boris asked, his already deep voice low and hushed. He could feel it in his chest, and it forced his breathing to ease up almost on its own. “Is everything okay? You walked right into me...” Kamal snorted slightly, waving a dismissive hand. “Aw, is that all? Ya know I’m fine Bor, just still tired ‘s all. Kinda late, right?” Boris mulled that over for a moment, watching the smaller mans face, almost like he was waiting. Kamal felt himself sweat again, just a bit. “Hm. I suppose it is... Still, you seem a little bit “off”.” He tilted his head, his auburn bob giving a little bounce, and Kamal knew he was onto him. Well, no sense in trying to lie his way out of this one. Boris had him, fair and square. “Ugh.... Yeah, a’right, ya caught me. I uh... God this sounds dumb but ah, I had a nightmare.” He said, looking away from those bright eyes with a bit of shame in his voice. He sounded like a little kid, nightmare! Bad dreams shouldn’t scare him that bad. Though then again, it’s not like it was about something made up... In any case, it didn’t detract from how pathetic and childish “I had a nightmare” sounded to him. Plus, maybe he felt a little bad that he didn’t intend on telling Boris about it, in spite of how shaken he clearly was. 

Though he didn’t have time to ruminate on that particular thought, because before he knew it, Boris had let go of his arm, hooked his freed hand under Kamal’s knees, and lifted him up into his arms in a storybook princess-carry. 

He made a less than dignified squeaking noise, hand moving to quickly grip at Boris’ shirt, earning a small wince. “Ow, chest hairs.” The large man muttered quietly, prompting Kamal to let go, opting to grip at his shirt a bit closer to his opposite shoulder instead. Then his eyes snapped back to meet Boris’. “???” He didn’t do much more than make a noise, still a bit too surprised to get more out. Boris chuckled, looking back at him with a nervous sort of smile. “Eh... You seemed like you could use a “pick me up”?” He offered. Kamal stared. He stared and considered, but it didn’t take more than a few seconds for him to smirk, then grin. Then he started laughing, head dropping, resting on Boris’ shoulder as he turned around, starting back for the bedroom with a victorious little smirk on his lips. “Ahaha, ahhh man. Sweetheart, ya crack me up sometimes.” He snrked, smile turning softer when he felt a gentle peck on the top of his head. “And I love to. You know you have the most beautiful smile, кувшинка.” The hand he’d been softly resting on Boris’ shoulder moved to his mouth for a brief moment, reflexively wanting to cover his teeth now that Boris had made him aware of them. But he didn’t. He just let that hand fall back onto his shoulder, pressing his face into the fabric of the fabric of his shirt. He smelled like roses. Boris always smelled like some kind of flower. It was comforting, soft, just like him. “So ya keep tellin me...” “Only because it’s true.” Boris confirmed, sitting on the edge of the bed, setting Kamal gently in his lap. “And so I mean it.” 

He looked down at him, shifting a large clawed hand out from under Kamal. He gently pried his face free from his chest, frowning softly at the sight of tears wetting his eyelashes, the hand under his chin moving instead to gently hold his cheek. “Was the bad dream about your smile, lily pad?” Kamal didn’t speak, he just nodded slightly. “Hm. Do you want to talk about it?” Kamal let out a breath through his nose, using the heel of his palm to wipe at his eyes. “It was nothin’, just... I was back there, at the Boraritum. And I could smell the nitrous, ‘n everyone was gone, an, an my mouth hurt so bad, ‘n I tried to scream but all that came out was blood an, a-an teeth, an-“ Both of Kamal’s hands suddenly found themselves within much larger, stronger ones, big fingers gently curling around his shaking ones. And Boris had pressed their foreheads together, looking right at Kamal, so softly, just the sight alone putting him at an ever so slight ease. “... And?” “An... ‘N I saw myself, an I was just...” He closed his eyes, grimacing slightly, his brows furrowed as he tried to steady his breathing. “... This sucks.” “I know, I am sorry.” 

They sat like that for a little while, close but not looking at each other, just holding on. Holding on, and Boris gently rubbed Kamal’s hands with his thumbs. Holding on until the turning in Kamal’s stomach started to subside. “... ‘M tired.” He said after the long, drawn out, but peaceful silence. “Tired enough to go back to sleep?” “Mh, tired enough t’ try.” He muttered. They didn’t say anything. Boris scooped Kamal up in one arm, scooting up on the bed until he was in the middle. He laid back, settling Kamal on his chest, one of his hands moving to gently rake his claws through his wavy black hair. It was always calming for Kamal, the gentle tug. It brought him back down to earth. Once it coupled up with the soft but growing rumble of purring directly in his ear, the nightmare was practically a distant memory. And the world was little softer, just like this bed, and the man he was sharing it with. He took a full breath for the first time since he’d gone to bed, and closed his eyes. But he didn’t fall asleep before he felt another kiss on the top of his head, and he smiled faintly. “I love you, Kamal.” He mumbled, voice low and sleepy. He smiled a little wider. The utterance of first names felt like a little love note exchange, a secret. Something they only did for each other. He lifted his head slightly, scooting up just enough to steal a quick kiss, feather light, fleeting, barely more than a brush of lips, settling himself right back down where he’d been. “I love you too, Boris.” 

His mind was finally, finally quiet again. He’d savor it if he wasn’t already asleep.


End file.
